The Dove Keeper (Frerard)

Three

            I went to the doctor the next day. I hadn't seen my family one in years; not since my last physical when I was in college and he had asked me about my sexual partners. I didn't want to tell him, though I knew it was important. I never went after that so I could avoid telling lies through omissions, then after my parent's health insurance ran out for me, I began to just use the free clinic, and only when it was absolutely necessary. I saw different staff so often that it didn't really matter what I said or who judged me because I would never see them again. Most people working at a free clinic in New Jersey had heard it all anyway, and my proclivities were very tame in comparison to some of the other people they saw in a day, people that I could only speculate about. 1

            I went to the free clinic again and didn't have to wait too long before a nurse ushered me inside and took some vials of my blood. Since I had never seen her before, I didn't mind confessing what I wanted to be tested for. She paused after my initial candid response, for longer than I was comfortable with, and dread returned. When she spoke, I braced myself for the worst, but instead she told me that I was a very brave "boy."  I hadn't had anyone call me boy in ages and it made me feel very self-conscious about my height and lack of prominent facial hair right then. When I asked why she was proud, since getting an STD test was no Nobel Prize, she said, "In order to get a test for something like that, you have to accept both outcomes as possibilities. It's why most cases stay undetected for so long. It's brave to even take the test because now you could know for sure."

            I considered that, and though her logic seemed all right, I rejected its premise. I didn't like the equating of sickness with the medical establishment, and how you had to absolutely be devastated and prepared for the worst if you went inside. It had to be framed that way for the most part because of the ridiculous way insurance worked, though. If we didn't have to worry about things like money, then I was sure that people would go to the doctor's a lot more and it wouldn't be considered a "brave" task.

            I had been hanging around Jasmine too long, I supposed. Her extreme authority over her own body made me take things like the doctor for granted as something you did, not because you were unhealthy, but because you were in charge. I had been shirking my responsibility to myself lately and going off base deductions. That didn't mean I thought I was sick; it just meant I wasn't being responsible. Now I was to fix that. Even with this conviction, the nurse's comment got under my skin. I had been calm before, but now doubt had been planted.

            But of course, things were fine. No news is good news, and when they hadn't called back in three days, I called them and they confirmed. I was perfectly all right. Even with the new vegetarian diet, there was nothing to warn me about. I walked around all day with my chest puffed up, feeling healthier than ever. I had begun to feel my age recently with Jasmine's pregnancy looming over my head and the fact that the hours at my job were picking up (four shifts a week now, practically full-time), but the nurse's comment of "boy" and my newfound health had my confidence restored. I was still pretty young, and after all, didn't people live until one hundred? I felt like I could live an entire century. That would be so much time, I thought. What would I do with it all? It seemed now, especially with the advent of a job, that time was slipping through my fingers. It was going so fast, and so slow at the same time. My shifts would take a huge chunk of my day, and it seemed as if there was barely any time to eat and then talk to people before I had to go sleep and then repeat the whole cycle. While on shift, though, the time crawled. With less people coming in and the products all out, I was left to stare at a wall. Jasmine was not showing her pregnancy and wouldn't for some time, though her image had already altered in my mind. I knew our child was there, even if it wasn't viable and visible, even if no one else could tell. But I would always be surprised when I saw her and there was no bump. It seemed as if we made something so quickly, so haphazardly, and yet it would take ages to get here.